


Don't they know, it's the end of the world

by britishngay



Category: Fallout 4, Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: AND GAY, Drinking, F/F, Fallout 4 AU, Post-Apocalypse, Recreational Drug Use, a lot of both, and, this is ~violent~
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:48:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28417878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/britishngay/pseuds/britishngay
Summary: You know better, you really do.But someone said something about Vault dwellers and your day was shit and you were half a bottle of moonshine deep so you punched, then they punched and now they’re on the opposite sides of the drunk tank.(Or Veronica and Heather have to work together in a post-apocalyptic world.)
Relationships: Heather Chandler/Veronica Sawyer
Comments: 5
Kudos: 61





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So, this does feature violence, blood, casual use of heavy drugs, some vomit here and there and Heather being a dick so this is a warning for that. And if you have any questions about what stuff is, please ask, this fic takes place in the Fallout Universe so if you are familiar with the games it'll make sense, but if not, please ask!

You know better, you really do.

But someone said something about Vault dwellers and your day was shit and you were half a bottle of moonshine deep so you punched, then they punched and now they’re on the opposite sides of the drunk tank. You’re out of Stimpaks and the psycho is starting to wear off now you’re all kinds of tired and angry.

The hulk of a man you fought is sleeping across from her, head tilted back, jaw falling open and snoring so loud it’s echoing off the fucking walls. He’s got bruises beginning to bloom across various parts of his face. You try to nestles yourself, attempting to get any sleep on the uncomfortable bench, wincing as you do so. He got a lot of hits in, your nose is most likely broken, your stitches from today are probably popped open and your ribs are giving off a dull, throbbing ache that you know isn’t a good sign whatsoever.

You somehow manage to lie on your side, making sure that all of your valuable are pressed against the bench. You just bought a new pistol, you’re not about to let the brute opposite you take it while you’re sleeping.

It takes effort for you to close your eyes, you don’t trust the asshole in front of you one goddamn bit, but staying awake is not a good plan, especially with whatever Flemming will do to you in the morning. You start counting, that’s the way you Dad taught you to get to sleep.

You get woken up by the door to the cells slamming open.

Fuck, the Psycho _and_ the wine have worn off, you fucking hate hangovers.

“Rise and shine Heather, the mayor wants to see you.” A familiar voice says, goddamn Keith, sauntering in with his baseball bat and uniform. Smug bastard has had it out for you since you got rid of Skinny Malone and his little gang.

Getting up and sitting straight hurts, but it’s better than Keith pushing you until you stand. Jesus, everything aches, everything hurts and Flemming will only make it worse.

“Well I don’t want to see her.”

“Stop picking fights in Diamond City, then you won’t have to.” He opens the cell, staring pointedly at you. He taps his bat a couple of times against the metal frame, the clanging not doing much for the headache that’s already beginning to form.

You get up reluctantly, knowing that Flemming will just shout at you before letting you go, it’s better to get it over with, like ripping off a band-aid or something. Fuck, your ribs hurt more that you thought they would, you press your hand against them, happy that you don’t feel many extreme inconsistencies or bones that are in the straight up wrong place. The walk up to Flemming’s office is too bright and has too many steps for the state you’re in but you know that Flemming would never stoop so low as to see you in the cells. Keith knocks on the rotting wooden door with the handle of his back, a voice inside summons him in.

“Ah, it’s you.”

“Not excited to see me?” You sit down a chair opposite her desk, hunching over slightly. “Can we close the blinds?”

“No. On both accounts, do you know how much you owe Vadim for this fight?”

You roll your eyes, it’s not that serious.

“A hundred?”

“ _Five_ hundred.”

You sit up in the chair, trying to ignore the spiking pain in your ribs.

“What? I didn’t even break anything!”

“You threw a chair at the man then hit his accomplice with a bottle of beer that wasn’t yours so half the inn got involved.”

Oh right, the chair. You forgot about the chair.

“And that’s all my fault?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t have the caps for that.”

“I know you don’t, that’s why I paid him. And why _you_ will do a job for me.”

“Yeah right, the last goose chase you sent me on left me with a deathclaw, almost lost a leg.”

“Then be more careful this time.”

“No, I won’t do it.”

“Then you’ll be banned from Diamond City.” She says primly, getting some paper and setting it straight.

“What?” You almost shout, then immediately regret it, your own noise hurting you. “You can’t do that! I live here.”

“And I can evict you just as easily as I let you in.” She sneers at you, the way she always does, as if she’s better than you. As if you knew that you’d be kicked out of your Vault and left on your ass with no knowledge of the Wasteland. Diamond City was your first home since then, you’ll not have it taken from you. Your house, your life, your friends; if Flemming takes that all away you’ll have nothing. You’ll spend your days wandering around in the Commonwealth, with no anchor. You can’t do that again, not like you used to.

“People love me.”

“People tolerate you.”

You scoff. Flemming stares you down. Fuck, this is serious.

“Flemming, this is crazy, I can get the caps-”

“I don’t care. You will do this for me.”

They stare each other down. She’s not gonna budge, Jesus Christ, she’s not going to budge.

“Fine, what do you need?”

“First you need to meet who you’ll be working with.”

“Bullshit I work alone.”

“Not this time you won’t.”

“I said I’d do the job, just let me do it by myself.” You’re as close to begging as you will let yourself be, anymore would be pitiful, any less would make you almost delusional, considering what’s at stake here.

“No. You’ll be working with another merc, and you’ll no doubt pick up some strays on the way.”

You scoff again, this day is already going so much worse than you anticipated. Not that you were expecting much, but it’s definitely not good. You were hoping to be shouted at for the fight, down water and something to flush the chems out of your system, then see if you could grab a few caps by doing odd jobs by the folks too afraid to leave Diamond City, but _no,_ now you’ve got to pick up some random person and do some random job that Flemming hasn’t even told you about.

“Fine, where are they?”

“You’ll need to grab her off some Raiders.”

“Are you serious? I’ll be traveling with someone who managed to get herself captured by Raiders?”

“She didn’t get captured, she swapped herself out for Martha, you know, the girl who owns the clinic.”

Somehow that’s worse, you’re stuck with someone who’s a bloody bleeding heart.

“Fine, I’ll grab some food, then I’ll go get this girl. What’s her name?”

“I don’t know.”

“You expect me to work with someone you don’t even know?”

“No, I know her, she worked the jobs that you were too wasted to do.”

“Hey, I’ve had a pretty shitty year-“ You try to defend yourself but Flemming just interrupts you.

“She doesn’t speak much, she’s reliable, a good sharpshooter and one hell of a battlefield medic.”

“What does she look like?”

“Ask Martha, they’re practically sisters. Now get out of my office.”

“Right. So when I get the girl, then I get to know the mission?”

“Bye.”

Keith shuts the door behind you, smirking at you behind his helmet.

“Oh fuck you, country club.”

“Ooh, I’m quaking.”

You throw up a middle finger at him as you make your way back down the stairs to the market. One hand pressing against your ribs, the other shielding your eyes from the sun. You’re already over this bullshit. A couple of people move out of your way as you walk toward the clinic, some give you a dirty look, others check you out, some just chose to ignore your existence. Those are your favourites, they just let you live your sorry, dirty, violent life. Martha Dunnstock is bending over a Chemistry bench, no doubt finding Stimpaks that she can sell at a much lower price than necessary because her heart bleeds so much it’s a surprise that she even has any blood left in her body.

“Morning Martha.”

She turns, looking you up and down, disappointment obvious in her every movement. She’s not very good at hiding her emotions. That’s something you learnt a long time ago, she’s awful at Caravan and Poker and any card game because of it.

“Heather, did you get in another fight?”

“He deserved it.”

“That’s what you always say.” She tuts.

“I’ve gotta go get your girl.” You wince as you take another step up to the clinic. “And some supplies.”

Surprise bursts across her face, she quickly tries to hide it, clearly feeling guilty that you would do something for someone else for once.

“You’re going after Veronica?” Oh, that’s her name. You recognize it slightly, from people shouting it across the market, but you’ve never seen her, only a flash of dark hair running away. Hope is practically dripping from her tone. You’re not one for hope, the small amount that you had tucked in your back pocket for a rainy day was stolen from you this morning.

“Yeah, that’s the friend who took your place right?”

Martha looks at the floor, wringing her hands slightly. Shit, she’s the nicest girl in the world and you just made her feel like crap. She nods.

“Where did you guys run into these raiders?”

“By the Mass Fusion building.”

That’s about a four mile walk, with all the shit in the way it’ll take around an hour and a half. God, this is already turning into a trek, first to find the girl, bring her back, then go on whatever the hell Flemming wants you to do.

“I thought that place was overrun by Gunners.”

“Yeah, but there’s all sorts around there, we heard there was medical salvage. Ronnie tried to make me stay behind but I insisted she take me, then we could carry more.” She sits down on a ratty chair, sighing deeply. “But then we had Gunners on one side and Raiders on the other side and they took Ram’s crew took me and Veronica bargained for me. They didn’t agree, Veronica just kept them busy enough for me to run away without them noticing. God knows what they’re doing to her.”

“Don’t think like that, you’ll only twist yourself into knots.” You say, your tone could be a lot kinder, but the mix of pain and nausea from your hangover leaves a lot of whatever niceties you have left to be desired. You lean against one of the beams. “Can I get patched up? I can’t go up against Ram’s lot like this.”

You don’t exactly plan to cut through Ram’s little army, he owes you enough that he should just tell you where the girl is, but just in case he’s feeling especially stupid, you have to be ready – and these days he only ever seems to be stupid. He’s one of those guys who feels he has to prove himself to his crew, so now and again you avoid the Mass Fusion area like the plague, hopefully he’s not the worst today and will just let you take the girl, probably for a few hundred caps, but you can always windle him down a bit, he never was the smartest.

“Right of course.” She stands quickly, rubbing her hands down her trousers in a nervous tick. “Where does it hurt?”

“Everywhere.” You say dryly, she gives you a look, a proper Doctor look. “My ribs and nose, mainly, the rest can heal naturally.” You think of the caps this’ll cost you and chose not to mention the stitches that are lying across thigh, you’ll fix them when you have time. And money. Mainly money.

“Are you sure?”

“Please, can we just get on with it, I’ve got shit to do.”

You lift up your shirt, her cool hands make you hiss as she feels across your chest. She hums.

“Not broken, but definitely bruised. Badly.” She grabs a Stimpak from her bench and injects it into your system. It doesn’t exactly heal you up properly, but it speeds up the process enough that she should be able to set off before midday, and it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as the other things Doctors in the waste try to give you. “And your nose, well, that is broken. Let me set it.”

She clicks your nose in place, the pain bringing with it a new lot of blood. She puts a band-aid across it keep it in place.

“Going out without resting your body, even for a few hours, could be dangerous Heather.”

“I’m going today, Doc.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“I thought you wanted me to save your stupid friend from Raiders.” You snap, Martha withdraws. You immediately regret your tone, not because you didn’t mean it, but because Martha doesn’t deserve your bullshit. “Sorry.”

You’d tell her about the threat of eviction, but then she’d get all puppy-dog-eyed and start pitying you. There’s nothing you want less than Martha Dunnstock’s pity.

“You’re forgiven. Here.” She hands you a familiar Addictol inhaler. You eye it wearily, unlike Stimpaks, this _does_ hurt. Flushing Chems and alcohol from your system in one inhalation hurts like hell. You were hoping to do this the good old fashioned way, a cold shower and enough water to fill the ocean, but Martha clearly had other ideas. “I saw you huffing Jet and Psycho last night.”

“C’mon-“

“You will _not_ go after my best friend like this. If you refuse to rest for a few hours, you will at least get clean.”

You reluctantly take the inhaler.

“You know that I’ll just take them again soon, right?”

“Well at least I can give your body a second before you put that _stuff_ into your body.”

She watches you as you breath in, holding it in your lungs for five painful seconds, before exhaling with a cough. She’s done this enough times to know what’s next, she gives you a bucket and a hair tie and whatever food you had yesterday is now sitting at the bottom the red plastic bucket in front of you.

“Let it out.” She says soothingly, rubbing your back, you push her arm away. She sighs and lets you hold the bucket as you puke your guts out. Or at least that’s how it feels. It finally ends and you pretty much thrust the bucket into her arms. Her face hardly changes, she’s good with gross shit like that.

“How,” you cough slightly. “How much do I owe you?”

“It’s on the house.”

“I don’t want-“

“You’re not getting any pity. This is for Veronica. Not you.”

You nod, feeling light headed. She dumps a bag on your lap, from a quick look, you can see various Stimpaks, water and other things that aren’t outright Chems, but close enough to numb the feeling of getting shot. You look up at her, about to refuse the supplies, or at least about to give her money.

“Veronica. Not you.”

“Fine.” You almost growl, standing quickly. Too quickly, you have to grip onto her shoulders to steady yourself, her eyebrows furrow, you roll you’re eyes. “I’m fine.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve forgotten what that word means.”

You say nothing as you limp off, opening a bottle of water from her and chugging as much as you can before your lungs scream for breath. Despite the unpleasant pain and emptiness that the Addictol left you with, you feel slightly clearer as you stumble to your house. The bright red door has a stark contrast to the blues and greens of the City.

Your house is empty, lacking personal items. It’s not like the Vault let you take any effects with you as they dragged you from you room and into the Commonwealth, but it’s home, it was all you could afford with the Caps you had scrapped together at the end of a few years alone. You throw Martha’s pity supplies onto the bed and fall into your only chair.

First, food.

The dark purple bruise that Martha poked at less than an hour ago has faded into a mottled yellow colour that’s ugly to look at, but at least it doesn’t hurt at every movement. Your nose isn’t swollen anymore and now leaves a dull ache whenever you make a face that isn’t neutral, so your famous glare is out of the picture.

Eventually you make it out of the City, Danny – the only nice guard – giving you a friendly wave on the way out, you grunt back to him.

The walk to the Mass Fusion building isn’t exactly hard, but it’s not easy anyhow. There are parts of the city that are overrun by ghouls, other sections you can’t cross a street without running into someone who would want to shoot you, so you gotta improvise.

Avoid the pond, there’s all sorts around there, go through the back alleys, it’s less likely that people will hide out there, you can’t be in large numbers. Normally you avoid the Mass Fusion area for the precise reason that this ‘Veronica’ is stuck there, it’s crawling with every kind of thing that wants you dead.

Mutants, ghouls, Gunners and Raiders.

It sounds like the beginning of a joke.

Once you’re past the turret-guarded streets around Diamond City, you draw your gun. A simple combat one, with sights and a drum magazine. It was one of your first weapons, you’ve just added onto it so many times so that it doesn’t jam every three shells or overheat and burn your hands like it used to.

The buildings are half caved in, rubble piling high on the street. You’re used to it by now, no more tripping over stones that clatter throughout the street, alerting whoever’s nearby. You walk North, toward the river, the radiation from wading through the water in better than a Mutant running at you with a Mini Nuke in his hand, anything’s better than that to be honest. When you walk past the weird cult that hangs out too much in Goodneighbour – the bad-boy brother to Diamond City – you find yourself finally coming to properly. No Chems in your system, a decent enough sleep considering and some heated up Pork n Beans sitting heavy in your stomach. Even though you don’t know, or particularly care for this ‘Veronica’, you find yourself itching for a fight that isn’t in the dingy Dugout Inn.

You would start thinking about what will happen if you can’t find the girl, or if she’s dead, but that’s a bit too big for today. Because then you have to start thinking about where to live and that just ain’t peachy, you can’t go back onto the road again, but there’s nowhere that’s anywhere near as safe as Diamond City, and nowhere that pays as well. You suppose you could get a room in Goodneighbour, but you know you’d get burgled at least twice a week and you can’t be bothered for revenge that often, revenge has to be something savored.

You finally make your way closer to the Mass Fusion building, checking your back and sides almost constantly. There are too many enemies here to be cavalier.

You crouch past the Gunners, hiding in between the buildings and run past the Mutants so fast that they only ask if anyone’s there, but you’re too far for them to start attacking. Lazy bastards. You see the recognizable Raider ruins; a chugging machine-gun turret, someone standing on a wooden scaffold with a gas mask and some sort of pipe gun. You make the mistake of kicking some old bottle and they come alive.

“Will you shut _up_ for a second I thought I heard something.” You hear the one of the scaffold shout to another one. Then they all starts scanning the area.

“I’m looking for Ram Sweeney.”

“He’s not talking to you sweetheart, not today.” The turret starts firing and you duck behind a pile of cement that used to be part of a building. You really don’t want this right now.

“Just let me talk to Ramrod” You shout over the bullets flying near you.

“Not a chance Chandler! Go get her.”

For fucks sake. You look around the corner and shoot blindly toward the machine gun, you miss half of your magazine, but you’re luckier the next time around. You hear it explode and hear some of the Raiders shout in pain. They should’ve let her talk to Ram.

“I just want to talk to Raymond Fitzgerald Sweeney!”

“Alright Chandler! You’ve made your point.” Ram’s deep, stupid sounding voice bounces off the walls of the street, you peek around the corner to see him, hands up, waiting for you to do the same. You holster your shotgun and do the same. “What’s the deal today?”

“I’m looking for a girl.”

“Finally looking for love ey? Wendy did take a liking to you last time you had a drink with us.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively, you resist the urge to insult him. He’s dumb, and annoying, but he’s also got a gang of twenty-three, most of which are still pointing their guns at you.

“Veronica, word is you captured her a few days back.”

“What she look like?”

“The fuck I look like? A camera? I don’t know.”

“You’re normally meant to know who you’re looking for, I thought you was a good mercenary.”

“Dark hair, was with another girl. She bargained herself for the other one.”

“What do I get out of this if I tell you?”

“I’ll bring you some Gwennet Stout?”

“No, this is big, I know you’ll take out half the Raider population around here, we’ll need a little more, won’t we fellas?” The Raiders around him all cackle and whoop. God you hate fucking Raiders.

“Fine, beer, a hundred caps _and_ I won’t tell everyone what happened on the FMS North.”

Ram’s face dropped. When they ran around the Commonwealth together, they’d come across this place, South East, full of Ghouls and Mirelurks and all sorts of shit, then they’d found this place, the FMS North, where they could stay for a few days and wait for this Radiation Storm to pass. Imagine their surprise when they got ambushed in the middle of the night. The kicker, though, the bit that Ram is too terrified for his crew to find out, is that he slept naked, so he fought with everything hanging out, so when a Mirelurk hatchling bit him right on his bare ass, he leapt three feet in thee air, yelping like no tomorrow.

If they knew, he’d never hear the end, all that good faith, gone.

He nods.

“Took her to the Combat Zone, it’s South, by the pond.”

So right the way you came, nice.

“I’ll get you your Caps, when I get the girl.”

“Bye Raymond.”

You start walking off, that was easy, just a little threatening, takes you everywhere.

“Yeah yeah Chandler – you owe me a turret.”

“Should’ve asked me for that when you were bargaining.”

You hear him groan before you draw your shotgun again and start walking back, past the Mutants and Gunners and you stop by the Pond. Swan’s Pond, the one where you have to stay far, _far_ away from so he doesn’t try and swat you with the boats he has attached to his hands. You hear some rumblings of Raiders as you near the corner with the station and watch as they go into an old, but pretty much intact building.

Now this, _this_ will be a fight, one that’ll take it out of you far too much. You inject some Psycho so you’ll be resistant to _some_ things that’ll get thrown your way and chug a Nuka Cola for good luck.

You manage to sneak in, undetected by the Raiders, they’ve taken the building and adapted it to some fight club. There’s a massive steel cage in the middle, with people shouting inside at the fighters. There’s a woman, tall and lean, dark hair pulled up to reveal an undercut and a long scar going from her left shoulder, down half of her back. There’s barely anything to her, but she’s spitting blood onto the floor and taking as good as she’s getting, somehow even more.

That _must_ be Veronica. God Martha is lucky to have avoided this, she wouldn’t have lasted half an hour.

“Hey! You’re not supposed to be in here!”

You thrown a grenade toward a group that have noticed you and start shooting at someone with a baseball bat that’s running toward you as if you don’t have a shotgun in your hands. Time blurs as people run at you, you shoot and you hit and you throw grenades, you even headbutt a guy as he shouted in your face and tried to tackle you. A bullet hits your chest-plate, making your ribs ache even more, but you rectify that by putting a bullet in the guys head. This is how the Wasteland works, no remorse, it’s always think now and shoot later.

You end up with your back against the cage, fending off three at Raiders at once.

“Give me a gun!”

“Fuck off, I don’t know you!”

“I’m not going to shoot you, shit-for-brains, I’m gonna help you.”

You stay silent, hitting a Raider with the butt of your gun, sending him reelling before stabbing him with the bayonet taped to the front of your gun. The squelching sound and feeling of warm blood dripping on your hands is one that you will never get used to, you kick him away, only to feel yourself pushed face first against the cage. Veronica, at least you guess it is because there’s no one else in the cage, punches the man holding you there, giving you an opportunity to shoot him once, square in the chest.

“Trust me now?”

“Fine.” You hand her a battered 10mm pistol, she rolls her eyes at the state of it, but takes it nonetheless. From what you can gather, and it’s hard with bullets flying your way, she barely misses a shot. The only indication of that being when she curses under her breath, gulps down some air then starts firing again.

Eventually, the only person left in the building is Veronica, the man who was narrating the fight ran away as soon as the shooting started. You open the cage, the woman points your own gun toward you.

“For fucks sake.”

“What do you want with me?”

“Flemming sent me to get you. Figured it was above security’s paygrade.”

“The mayor sent you?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“We have to do something for her.”

“I don’t work with people.”

“Yeah, me neither, and yet here we are.”

“Okay, let’s go. Martha’s probably worried sick. Help me look for my shit? Raiders took it and divided it out.”

“That wasn’t part of Flemming’s deal.”

“No, it’s part of my deal if we have to work together. I’m not going to try and know your life, and you’re not going to try to know mine, all I want is my gun, my ammo and my armour. And I’m guessing that you don’t want to stand around while I search everyone here.”

She makes a good point.

You hate that.

“Flemming said you don’t talk much.”

“Flemming doesn’t know shit, she’s so out of the loop the Brotherhood of Steel could knock on her front door and she wouldn’t even know.”

It takes God knows how long, but you eventually find Veronica’s shit, and little more that’s useful, she wears a t-shirt and jeans with combat armour that’s so ratty it’s almost glued together and a backwards cap that keeps her hair under control. She keeps your battered 10mm, putting it in the waistband of her trousers. You keep count of the .44 strapped to her right thigh and the combat knife on the other side, the sniper rifle over her shoulder and a weapon in her hand that looks like it shoots railway spikes? You’ve never seen a gun like that before, of course she has some weird gun that you’ve never seen before, she seems like _that_ kind of merc. The strong, silent type who tries to be nice to everyone for and will comfort someone if the moment requires.

“How many guns does one woman need?”

She rolls her eyes almost affectionately even though you were just being mean and starts walking toward the entrance.

“Let’s get back to the great green jewel of the Commonwealth.”

You hate how it make you smile a little bit.


	2. Chapter 2

Martha hugs you when you bring Veronica back in one piece. For someone sure was angry that you didn’t rest before leaving, she almost breaks your ribs in her grip.

You don’t hug her back.

Veronica does though, like Martha is a lifeline. You nod at the pair before turning and making your way to the Dugout, you check your Pip-boy, it’s past five, that’s late enough for drinking. You’re pretty sure that you hear one of them call your name, but you pretend not to hear. They don’t exactly come after you, so you’re pretty sure it was more like a courtesy thank you more than anything else.

Despite you and Veronica’s reservations on Flemming, you think as you make your way to the Dugout, she was right about Veronica. After their brief conversation in the ‘Combat Zone’ they stayed silent the entire way back, and she was able to shoot quickly and effectively when they ran into some ghouls by an old graveyard. You walk past a few patrons outside, they give you dirty looks, you ignore it, it’s not like it’s a rare occurrence that people don’t like you. You hate to admit that Flemming was almost right, most people in this place tolerate you, the other’s downright ignore or hate you. You have a vague sense you know why, you tend to insult people while drunk, and you’re only really sober when you’re on a job or sleeping so they only see you while you’re drunk.

Your life is kinda sad.

Oh that’s too heavy for tonight, just get drunk and enjoy what little time you have left in Diamond City before Flemming kicks you out because you won’t be able to get along with the blooming bleeding heart.

As soon as you get inside, Vadim shouts at you.

“Out!”

“C’mon, Vadim, most of it wasn’t my fault.”

He gives you a look.

“I’m not backing down, I want a beer.”

“You are banned from this bar, if you come in again, I’ll get security on you.”

Fuck, security means Flemming, Flemming means that there’s a high chance that your eviction notice could be coming sooner than anticipated.

“Okay, fine, I’m out.”

You slam the door open and rush back to your house, anger coiling through your body on the way, it wasn’t even your fault. First you might get kicked out from your home, then you can’t go to the one spot in town that sells something halfway decent. You suppose you could head over to Goodneighbour, but you can’t be bothered to deal with the drifters there, or spend well-earned caps on the hog-wash that they call beer; plus your day has already been long enough, it would be too much to pass out in Goodneighbour.

Your house is cold when you get there, the few personal items you have are worn and weary against the dark shadows that crawl across the floor, there are no windows in the ‘home plate’, instead you’ve had to make lights to fill the space, especially on the mezzanine that your bed lies on. You turn on the radiator and the radio, slowly warmth seeps through the house as Travis’ awkward mumbling fills the space. Just as you’re about to sit down there’s a knock at your door.

“What?”

You open it to see Veronica, beer in her hands.

“No.”

“I don’t care, this is a thank you for saving me.” She barges past you into your house. You were really hoping she wouldn’t pull anything like this, you thought you could just save her then head out in the morning on whatever the hell Flemming wants them for, but no, she has to be a bloody bleeding heart.

“You’ve said thanks, can I be alone now?”

“Wow, you really are tetchy, no wonder Vadim barred you from the Inn.”

“He barred me because I got blamed for a bar-fight half the fucking city was involved in.”

“What about the Colonial Taphouse?”

“Does it look like I’m made of money? Also it’s shit.”

Veronica snorts, sitting down on your shitty sofa and opening her beer.

“Fine, but we don’t talk, you have until the end of this beer then I’m kicking you out.”

She holds up her hands, saying nothing but agreeing with you nonetheless. You pay attention to her as she sips away at her beer, looking around your empty house. She’s armourless, which is something you wouldn’t really be thinking about but her arms flex in the artificial light every time she brings the bottle to her lips and your eyes flit to her throat as she drinks. She’s attractive, objectively so, not as hot as you but hot nonetheless. Her hair isn’t hidden between a ratty blue baseball cap and instead tied up.

You wonder if she’s taking in your space and you the way you are her. Maybe you should talk, you’ll be stuck with her for a few weeks or so, maybe even merging on a month, depending on what Flemming wants you to do. You already know she won’t hurt you, and she’s still got your pistol.

The silence isn’t even particularly bad, or awkward, it just lay there, steady in the air.

“Where’d you get that gun from?”

“I thought we weren’t talking.” She teases you, acting like you’ve known each other for years.

“That gun, the one with the rail spikes.”

“Ah, my railway rifle. I got it for helping a settlement out.”

“You get guns for helping people? What about caps?”

“Oh, I get those too.” She says, slightly smugly, taking another drink of beer. Her somewhat self-righteous smile into the bottle is a little too attractive for your liking.

“How?”

“I’m good at what I do.”

“And I’m not?”

“I never said that.”

“It was implied.”

“It really wasn’t.”

You swirl you beer up, so it tornadoes down your throat. It doesn’t burn pleasantly, or even taste too good – Veronica had brought it lukewarm, probably straight from Crazy Myrna – but it goes down nonetheless, Veronica even looks slightly impressed as she does it.

“Right then.” She says, standing up, somehow knowing that you downing your beer was a sigh for you her to leave. “Should I see myself out?” She teases.

A part of you realises how much more relaxed she is in Diamond City, and how much more irritating she is because of it.

“I’ll see you bright and early in Flemmings office Heather.” She says over her shoulder.

“Fuck off.”

Veronica laughs as she shuts your door.

\--

Being in Flemming’s office twice in two days sounds like it would be a record for you, but instead, it’s a close second to the time you completed a job then got into a disagreement with Arturo about a gun price, she didn’t take too kindly to your loud discussion.

Thankfully this time isn’t accompanied by a pounding headache and the pain oozing into almost all of your body parts.

“So what are we doing?” Veronica asked, sitting in the chair next to you, displeased by not knowing what you’ll be doing. She’s tapping her toes continuously, you’ve almost kicked her shins to she will shut the fuck up. Everything about is a false kind of relaxed, so different from how she was when she invited herself into your house last night, her back is straight, her hand is close to her gun, itching to use it, you understand what Flemming said about not speaking much, her words are short and clipped.

“You will clear out a town out South East called Jamaica Plains, I understand that it’s overrun by Ghouls, after that you will come back here for payment Veronica, and you,” She looks disgusted just by being in your presence. “shall get to live in peace.”

God you hate her.

“What happened to half up front?” Veronica’s voice is steady, quiet anger in her tone, her hand clenches the arm of the chair, almost turning white. She didn’t give the impression of someone who loves money when she was bragging about extra guns and ammo last night – what the hell does she want the caps for?

“Things change.”

“Mayor-“

“Things change, you will go and come back and then you’ll get paid.”

“Fine.”

You and her stand. You’ve never heard of this ‘Jamaica Plains’, it can’t be North East because you know that area like the back of your hand, you hope that Veronica knows just a little bit of where it is. You follow her out to the elevator back to the market.

“Do you know where we’re going?” She asks, as the elevator takes it’s sweet time getting to the ground.

“No. I don’t know much out East, I’ve only been North East, up by General Atomics and Lynn woods – you know the area?”

“I’ve heard of it, but I’ve mainly stayed South, went through the Glowing Sea once.” She says, not really paying attention to what she’s saying and instead rifling through her pockets.

“You’ve been through the Glowing Sea?” You try not to show how surprised you are, you’ve been along the edge of it; the green fog and mournful sounds of the ghouls and bugs echoing from the depths. Your pip-boy screamed at the radiation, it’s a wonder she got out alive.

“Yeah, cost me a lotta caps too, with all the Rad-X I had to get through.”

“So you don’t know where we’re going?” You get back to the task at hand, opening the gate as the elevator comes to a still. You start walking towards the market, someone has to know about something, surely.

“Neither do you.” She points out, following you, staying a step behind.

“I need to stock up on ammo, then I’ll ask Artuto about it.” She stops you, her hands warm through your shirt.

“He doesn’t know shit about outside Diamond City, he came from out West.”

“Okay so we’re going to Goodneighbour.”

“What makes you think someone there knows about it?”

“Someone always knows something in Goodneighbour, especially if it’s shady.”

“Flemming? Shady? She’s about as shady as one of those sorry excuses for trees out there.”

You’re not even hungover today and a headache is already starting to form, a small buzzing pain forming in your temples and spreading to the back of your head.

“I can’t believe Flemming said you don’t speak much, you don’t shut up.” She snaps, Veronica takes it in her stride; raising her eyebrow and quickly retorting.

“That’s the point of a conversation, Heather. Let’s head to Goodneighbour, then figure out where we’re going next. I’ll meet you at Arturo’s in a bit.”

Before you can interrupt and ask for longer she stalks off toward the mega surgery. You sigh and walk toward Arturo. He’s leaning against his counter with that stance he always has, face in a serious line as he watches people go by. He plays with his mustache as someone walks up to his hut.

“What I’ve got can keep you safe.” You hear him say to a new customer, his face contorts as he sees you over the customers shoulder. “Take a look around – Heather!”

“Art, lemma grab some shells, frag grenades and some 10 mil. Rounds.”

He turns to his collection of ammo boxes, finding the one full of shotgun shells and turning to you.

“How long you headed out for?”

“I don’t know yet, trying to stock up.”

“I’ll give you the lot, I’ve got a delivery tomorrow.”

“Thanks. I’ll take three grenades and four clips of 10 mil.”

“You got it. Who you working for this time?”

“Flemming’s got me clearing somewhere out. Speaking of do you know where Jamaica Plains is?”

“How much are these?” The other customer points toward some missiles, not even noticing that they’re in the middle of a conversation

“Twenty caps a piece.” Arturo answers kindly, not wanting to lose a customer, especially when Myrna is selling some ammo slightly cheaper next door.

“Huh, what about some 5 mils?”

Christ, you’re in the middle of a conversation, here.

“Half a cap per round, a case if fifty.”

“How about-“

“Hey, will you get lost, I’m trying to buy some shit here.” You interrupt, you’re actually buying ammo, instead of asking about everything. The customer rolls his eyes and walks away, giving you a glare as he does so. Good, hate you, but let you buy your goddamn ammo.

“You’re going to scare away my customers, Heather.”

“You should come here knowing about what you’re buying, that man had no idea, ergo no gun or need for a gun.”

“By the way, I have no idea where the hell Jamaica Plains is. That’ll be 237 caps.”

“What? How much are shells?” You exclaim, it’s not like you’re rolling around in money, that’ll take half your caps. You’re going to have to sell some stuff to make ends meet on the road.

“Two each.”

“They were one last week!”

“Prices change.”

“You’re lucky I like you.”

You tut and gather the pile of caps from a tin you keep in your bag, just as you’re counting them, a familiar – unfortunately – voice calls from behind you.

“Arturo!”

“Veronica! I’ve got some spikes for you.”

“Thanks. I was thinking that if we leave soon, we can get back here and stay the night before we use any of the information. Then we can be off early in the morning.”

“It’s a waste of time for us to come back here immediately after. The rooms are cheap, and if it’s too much I can just threaten ‘em.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” Arturo says, handing Veronica some spikes. You can’t read the expression she gives you.

“What? I have a reputation, I’m sure you do to, between us we could swing a lower price.”

“Okay. Sure.”

“You gave up quick.”

“It’s too early to argue.”

“It’s almost 11.”

“I know I’m not going to change your mind, you’re as stubborn as me, if not worse.” She shrugs, then turns to Arturo. “Can I get twenty 305s and fifteen 44s?”

“You got it.”

“How much?”

“113.”

“Thanks. Let’s get going, Goodneighbour is an hour and a half away right?”

“Yeah, but you never know who we’re going to run into.”

She grabs your arm with your Pip-boy on and turns it to the map, you go to protest but she interrupts you before you can.

“I was thinking we can go North by Apparel then head East by the river.”

“What? Are you crazy? We’ll be cornered by Mirelurks on one side and whoever the fuck wants to attack us on the other, plus then we’ll have to go in by the Mass Fusion building.” You point to the little building sign on the glowing screen, watching as her face blanches slightly. “The place where you got picked up by Ram not a few days ago.”

“Exactly! That area will be depleted of Raiders.”

“Yeah, and every other kind of fool who’ll want to kill us will have taken their place.”

“What do you suggest then?”

“Cut straight North East, by Trinity Tower.”

“You mean Mutant central?”

God it’s been so long since you’ve argued with someone over a route, the headache is threatening to spill into a migraine, as well as that, the rough suturing you did in your leg the other day starting to ache slightly. Why is she so insistent on this stuff? You’re the expert here.

“Look, wherever we go, we’ll be attacked, stealth won’t work around this place. But my route will only maim us, maybe a little bit of bleeding, your way? We’re dead.”

“Why don’t we go South then North again.”

“You mean down to Mass Tunnel, then by the school then up past the Combat Zone?”

“What is your thing about going places where you’re just been captured?”

“They don’t expect it.” She smiles, slight arrogance bleeding through in the way she raises her eyebrows, almost daring you to respond. You roll your eyes.

“Fine then, Tunnel, school, zone, Goodneighbour. That’ll take around two hours, not including the inevitable fighting we’ll have to do.”

“Got it, we gonna head?”

“Sure, lemme just grab some stuff from Myrna.”

You don’t have to grab anything from Myrna, you just don’t want Veronica to have the last word, she nods and walks toward the gate, nodding as she goes. You get some scrap that you’ll use to make sure your guns stay in top shape and a few stimpaks that you can squeeze into your pockets.

You see Veronica talking with one of the guards as you walk down the stairs, the guard gives you a look as you walk up to her, you reward him with a glare that could melt metal. He averts his eyes as Veronica just rolls hers and meets you as you walk.

“Ready?”

“Let’s go.”

To get where you want to go, you have to walk around the stadium. You don’t what it was called before the bombs dropped, something stupid you reckon. Pre-war names are like that, you’ve found out, you do know what was played there though. Not the stupid ‘Swatters’ that Moe is always on about, the world is violent now, physical and hurting, but it wasn’t that kind of painful then. No, just men in a field, hitting a ball and running. No beating to death, nothing like that, just some hitting and running. You were taught about it in the vault, you’d always wanted to play, but there was no space underground, you and JD tried to figure out how to play in the Reactor Room, but you almost broke something that you didn’t understand, but made JD’s face go some kinds of sickly white and he was afraid to explain so they didn’t play with the leg of a chair and some rolled up clay anymore.

He was always good at knowing the things you didn’t, you wonder if he’s still in that stifling, stuffy, boring, horrendous vault.

You brought out of your reverie, a couple of streets from Diamond city, by Veronica pushing you against the wall, her ‘railway rifle’ as she called it, primed to fire. Her eyebrows are furrowed, her jaw clenched so hard it’s a wonder that her bones don’t crack under the pressure, her eyes are darting around the place. You join her in priming your shotgun and listening out, sure she’s annoying and doesn’t know how to shut up, but you’re pretty sure that she kinda knows what she’s doing out here.

You’ll never tell her that, of course.

There’s some kinds of foot traffic and banging in the buildings in front of you. Of course this is pretty much Raider’s alley, they’re cooking up all sorts of stuff in there. This lot are going to be high on whatever the hell they’ve been making. That means they'll be loud and dangerous and take a couple more bullets than you’ll want to be using.

“You hear that?” A Raider’s shout echoes through a burnout building to your left. Fuck, it’s been what, twenty minutes?

“It’s probably nothing.” Another one replies.

“I’m still gonna check.” He makes his way onto the roof and looks around, if you stay still he could easily overpass you, just don’t look down, let them pass, let them be. Normally you’d be up for a fight, but this isn’t worth it, this isn’t worth _anything,_ things are always better when they’re worth something, especially fights. This would just be waste in bullets and stimpaks and drugs.

“Over there!” He shouts, starting to pull his weapon, only to get stopped by a railway spike hitting him square in the chest.

“Get them!” A different one yells and they start running to the nearest cover, a ruined shopfront with piles of mannequins in the window. You can hear the various shouts of Raiders as they follow you, bullets loudly hitting the bricks behind you and Veronica. You run down an alleyway and into the old shop. You’re both squatted behind an old counter, popping up now and again to attempt to quell the number of Raiders shooting at you, but it only seems to make them angrier and there only seems to be more of them. With every squat you do to stand up then duck, the more pain your shoddy stitches ache. If they pop, you will go absolutely ballistic.

“We should head to the library.” She almost shouts over the rain of bullets.

“What? I thought that place was overrun with mutants.”

“No, they headed to some salvage place down South, we can hold up there while they get bored.”

One jumps the counter and you stab them with your bayonet, you’ll never get used to that. You see a back exit that you can take that could lead you in the direction of the library. You nudge and show her, she gives you a nod. For all your arguing, you don’t work half badly as a team. You stand up again to shoot in the vague direction of them and feel something start to trickle down your leg.

Fuck.

Of course your stitches have to pop right now.

“You’re bleeding.”

“That’s what tends to happen when your stitches pop.” You say, squatting again and throwing a grenade out of the shop to preoccupy them for a while.

“Trousers down-“

“Not the most romantic proposition I’ve ever had-“

“Not like that.”

“I can do it myself.”

“Clearly not, if they’ve popped.”

“I am perfectly capable of stitching myself up.”

“I trained Martha. If I have to spend time with on the road, I want you to be in one piece.”

“Veronica we don’t have time for this.”

“Throw another grenade, I’ll do something that shouldn’t get your leg infected.” She snaps at you, using the same kind of ‘doctor voice’ that Martha uses, only harsher and more effective. You feel her rip into your trousers and prick your skin.

“Ow!” You over exaggerate, trying to keep as still as possible while throwing another grenade toward the Raider’s, they’re still reeling from the last one. Luckily, the narrow alleyway you came from is discombobulating and helpful for whatever the hell Veronica is doing back there.

“It’s this or you lose your leg, I’ll fix your damn trousers later.”

You don’t know how long you spend standing there, awkwardly leaning on the counter so that your leg is straight but you won’t, you know, _die_ from being shot at and shooting at whoever is able to walk straight enough to shoot properly.

Drugs and grenades in small spaces are apparently a good combo for stopping Raiders.

Fuck, they’re starting to get back to normal.

“Veronica, hurry up.”

“One second.”

“I swear to God-“

“Done. Run!” She drags you out the back door and you absolutely pace it toward the library, sharp pains running through your leg with every step of the way. They’re still after you, even when you zig-zag around buildings and across squares, they carry on running until you reach the side door of the library. You try and push the door open, panting as you do so.

It doesn’t budge.

“Let me try and pick it.”

“Your leg, you can’t crouch.”

“I just ran half a mile, and crouching is your issue?”

She pushes you out the way anyway and gets to her knees, thrusting an old screwdriver and a bobby pin into the lock. You turn and do your best to start picking of the Raiders as they find you. Every now and again you turn to see Veronica’s progress and, dear lord, is just pitiful to watch.

“You can stich me up while being shot at, but picking a lock is beyond you?”

“It’s completely different.” She defends through gritted teeth.

“Hm. Move.”

“Your leg-“

“Do you want the Raiders to follow us or not?”

She grumbles but stands anyway. You find a way to crouch down without causing too much pain, or too much noise from Veronica. You have a feel of the lock, a system like this takes time, time that you do not have. You speed up as much as possible Veronica firing away at the Raider’s after you.

“Got it.”

You barrel into the abandoned building, Veronica quickly following suit and helping you push an old cabinet in front of the door.

“How long before they give up?”

“Not too long, some poor soul’ll walk by and they’ll get distracted by them instead.”

“Good, I can take a proper look at your leg.”

“You’ve stitched it up, it’s fine.” You dismiss her, even though there’s some kind of roaring pain going on from that area.

“You’ve favouring your right leg, that means I should check.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Jesus, if I have to travel with you, rely on you, you’ll let me check you over.”

“If I do it will you stop pestering me?”

“Depends on how annoying you’ll be about it.”

“I’ll be insufferable.”

“I can handle that, lie down.”

And that’s how you find yourself, lying on your front on an almost 400 year old library with a merc you’ve known for less then a day picking away at your thigh.

“How are there so many goddamn Raiders? I thought Flemming was doing those weird patrols to scare them away or something.”

“They’re like a Hydra. Stay still.” She reprimands you.

“Hydra?”

“It’s some mythical beast, cut off a head and two grow in its place.”

“How do you know that?”

“I grew up near here, I used to sneak in and read these really, _really,_ old books that were vacuum sealed, nothing touched them.”

“Heart-warming.” You deadpan, the conversation was getting too mushy, too personal.

You hear her sigh and a carry on working.

“You didn’t tell Martha about these.” She observes.

“I was too busy saving your ass to get my stitches re-done, besides they were fine.”

“No they weren’t, what the hell did you use to suture them?”

“I don’t this, this like wire/twine stuff.”

“God, it’s a wonder we don’t have to get back to Diamond City and amputate it.”

“Hey!” You begin to defend yourself. “Hey!” You exclaim when shoves a stimpak into the fleshy skin next to your wound.

“We’re waiting an hour, letting the stimpak do it’s work and waiting for the Raiders to piss off, then we can go.”

“We will be fine, didn’t you say you know this place?”

“Exactly, lots of stairs, not what you need for a thigh wound.”

“Veronica-“

“What are you gonna do? Shoot me? Try explaining that to Flemming. And Martha.”

“Half an hour.”

“We’ll see.”

\--

The rest of your journey is done mainly in silence, you spent too long hiding out in the library, the sun is threatening to fall. Veronica takes the lead again, after around five minutes of arguing, as she leads you past the combat zone and the station before showing up at the gates of Goodneighbour.

“Are we looking for anyone in particular?” Veronica asks as they reach the gate, her eyebrows are furrowed and she’s looking around as if they’re still out in the open.

“I don’t know, will you relax?”

“No.”

“Well, at least put your gun down.” You press your hands against the muzzle of her rifle, forcing it down. “I would ask Daisy but it appears she’s closed up early.”

“Why Daisy?”

“She’s got all that pre-war knowledge, if it existed pre-war then it’ll exist in Daisy’s head.”

“Okay, anyone else in mind?”

“I’m sure Magnolia and whoever else overhears will give their two cents in the Third Rail.”

“Please tell me you didn’t drag me here for a _drink._ ”

“I thought you loved stitching me up.”

“I just don’t want to waste time.”

“How long did we wait in the library?”

“Will you shut up?”

“Wow. I pissed you off, I’m having a good day.”

She starts walking in the direction of the Third Rail, heading down the stairs quickly, knowing that you can’t go as fast because of you leg. You find her sitting as the bar with a whiskey from Charlie.

“I didn’t peg you for a drinker.”

“Well, I don’t do chems.” She downs the liquid with a wince on her face and flags down the robot again.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. I’m just saying that _this_ is my vice, that I don’t indulge in Diamond City because it’s unfair to make Martha clean up after me.”

“And it’s fair for me?”

“I won’t get blasted, don’t worry.”

God, she’s a dick in Goodneighbour.

Clapping fills the room and Magnolia does a small curtsey and walks away from the makeshift stage and microphone. Veronica tenses as she gets closer.

“Hey darlings, my two favourite mercenaries. Don’t you think a repeat with all three of us could be some fun, sugar?” Magnolia says, leaning in toward Veronica. Her head snaps to yours. Great, you’ve both slept with the singer. Veronica blushes and downs her drink. Ah, that’s why she’s been so cagey.

“We need to know where a place is.”

“And you think I’ll know.”

“Well, I would ask Charlie, but you know how he’s programmed.”

“What is it?”

“Some place down South called Jamaica Plains, ever heard of it?”

“What do I get in return?”

“I have caps.” You lean in closer to her, a familiar grin pushing at the side of your mouth. “Or other means.”

“Oh, Heather, I heard some Gunners from the Plaza talking about it, said it’s full of Ghouls, what’s your business there?”

Great, more fools with guns who want to fight you for no reason other than you’re not one of them, and their home base no less, you will travel an extra week to avoid them.

“Diamond City business.”

“Boo, I thought you could trust me.”

“I think we both know I can’t.”

She leans in, drawing a line down your cheek with a single finger, the action letting a tingle go down your spine. It’s been a while since you’ve been touched in a way that wasn’t a punch.

“I’ll give you that for free, honey, the crowd won’t sing for themselves. If you want to meet me at the Rexford after my set though, feel free.” She winks at you and slinks back to the stage.

“Can I get another whiskey and a beer please?” Veronica asks, she can really put it away, huh. It’s unexpected, you’d have thought she’d have a beer and that’s it, but here she is, knocking back whiskey and whiskey, her face only slacking slightly as she swallows.

“Double fisting are you?”

“One’s for you.”

“What? We’ve slept with the same woman and now we’re besties?” You sing-song the final word and Veronica rolls her eyes.

“It was an apology for being a dick earlier but if you don’t want it then-“

“I’ll take it, just don’t be gross. What is your thing with alcohol as appeasement.”

“I know you like it.” She shrugs.

Then you stay in silence. A few scavvers coming up and tell you that Jamaica Plains is plain East for a few caps, or some other bullshit, but you give them a glare and they soon get the message. At some point, Veronica moves to Nuka Colas while you move to bourbon.

Charlie starts to explain the differences between whiskey, whisky and bourbon and you zone him out as he floats in front of you. At least he refills the glass as he goes on and on about brewing techniques.

“We heading to the Rexford or what?” Veronica asks after around forty minutes of silence.

“Impatient much.”

“I wanna get some semblance of sleep before we start heading South. You should too, especially with that cut on your leg.”

“Comes with the job.”

“Do I have any injuries?”

“Yeah, that stick up your ass.”

Veronica just sighs and rolls her eyes.

“I’ll be at the Rexford when you feel like sobering up.”

She drops her share for the beers on the counter and head off.

Something in you feels bad for the way you spoke to her, you shouldn’t piss her off, god know how long it’ll take for you to get to Jamaica Plains, let alone clear it out. You sigh, why do you feel like this? You never feel like this, pissing people off is a survival strategy, people leave you alone, people don’t let you down.

And yet.

Nah, it’s probably the alcohol making you a bit looser and mushy.

But you do still feel a bit like shit.

You order another drink.


	3. Chapter 3

You wake up with a dull, thudding pain in your back.

You move around slightly to find that you are not in fact on a bed, or even a sofa, but on the cold wooden floor of the Rexford. You let out a groan and attempt to get comfortable, but a foot gently prods your hip. You open your eyes to see Veronica looking down at you.

“What do you want?”

“For us to get going.”

“But I don’t want to get going. Now, will you let me sleep?”

You roll onto your side, this time her foot nudges your back, harder.

“How do you get anything done?” She asks, an undeserved familiarity in her tone.

“I walk fast.”

She rolls her eyes, smiling slightly.

“C’mon, get up.”

“I like you more when you’re mean back, it means we have a thing going.”

Her smile widens slightly, then she kicks you lightly again.

“Jesus Christ, I’m getting up.” You stand, slowly. The aches that you’ve come accustomed too has started to fade, although a new burning sensation comes from your leg. “The whole day-night cycle is totally overrated though.” You come to rest on your injured leg and wince, a hand wraps around your arm, a warm hand that spreads heat that feels like it goes all the way to your bone.

“And I need to check that.” She says, eyebrows furrowing into her doctor face.

“The stimpak should have done most of the work, right?” As long as you don’t have to waste another day waiting for a fucking stupid cut on your leg, you’ll be okay.

“It did, but you stitched it up wrong, I had to open you back up. I probably just need to give you another one, then maybe tomorrow I can take the stitches out.”

“Thank god.”

“We should head to Daisy’s, then down South, toward the Plaza. Have you ever been by there?”

“Never, but I don’t want to. It has to be by there right? If they were talking about it?”

“Theoretically, but you never know. I’ve followed some pretty solid leads that ended up being nothing. Now, trousers down.”

“What?”

“Do you want me to cut through them? Trousers.”

“Jesus, fine.” She undoes the flimsy buttons on the front of her trousers and pushes them to her knees, the cold air hitting your bare skin.

“I’d rather not walk so far today, your stitches might have to be in for longer than necessary.” She prods at the wound, you wince in pain.

“I thought stimpaks were meant to fix it.”

“Well when your sutures were made up of dirty wires, there’s only so much a Stimpak can do. You should have gone to Martha as soon as you returned from your last mission.”

She steps away and you pull your trousers back up, she looks unimpressed.

“It’s just a cut-“

“It’s three inches wide and half one deep, you shouldn’t be in a filthy place like this at all. You should be at home. In bed. Relaxing, so your body can _fix_ itself.”

“Nothing a bit of Med-ex and stimpaks can’t fix.”

“Stimpaks yes, Med-ex, no.”

“What’s your issue with-“

“Heather, I don’t have many extreme opinions on things, but Med-ex is a no. Okay?”

This is the first time you’ve really heard her voice harden. Yesterday when she was verbally sparring with you, she was just short and vaguely mean, but she’s looking at you right now with stone cold eyes and a deadly serious face you haven’t seen just yet.

“Fine, Jesus. Daisy?”

“Do you trust Magnolia’s info?”

“I trust it enough, she hears enough bullshit from drunken idiots to know what’s real and fake.”

Although Magnolia is right most of the time, you don’t want to spend longer on the road than necessary, especially not with some bleeding heart medic that you’ve been stuck with.

Okay, she’s better than you anticipated, but she still talks too much and asks too many questions.

“So we’re going to Daisy to consolidate it?”

“She’s a more trustworthy source let’s say.”

“Daisy it is then.” She says, face relaxing a bit, but a grimace still echoed in her expression as she watches you walk toward the couch where you threw your armour before passing out last night. You put as much pressure as you can on it, it was completely fine with your wiring in, a bit itchy and swollen but it didn’t nearly hurt as much as it did now. “Hurry up Heather, we don’t have all day.” She teases as you pull your armour on.

“Haha.” You almost sneer, pulling on your chest-plate and pulling your hair into something resembling a ponytail. You push past her on the way out, you see her shake her head and chuckle slightly.

It’s brighter than you expect outside, you squint your eyes and get going toward Daisy’s shop, today’s going to get hot, you can just tell.

For fucks sake, that is not what you need.

You’re still goddamn waking up, your mouth tastes like the shit beer that you had most of the night and you’re pretty sure there’s some of Magnolia’s lipstick hiding away in the corner of your mouth, but that was last night and you’re sure as hell that you’ll focus on today. Veronica stays a few steps behind you as you make your way across the square, the few drifters and scavvers that are around give you dirty look, you’re both a bit too tidy and clean to fit in properly at Goodneighbour. No matter how long you spend, how much you drink, how many favours you do for the Mayor, you’re always an outsider.

“So you need some supplies?” Daisy’s hoarse voice calls out to you, she doesn’t even look up from cleaning the counter until she end, smiling as she does so.

“Information instead I’m afraid.”

She tuts and crosses her arms.

“What kind of information Chandler?”

“Just the whereabouts of a town, it might’ve existed before the bomb dropped.”

“Do something for me first.”

“What if we pay you?”

“My business doesn’t need caps for words. What I need is Ram and his gang to stay away from here, they keep messing with us. A little birdie told me that you knew him.”

Veronica’s head turns to you, you don’t have to look to see the question in her face. You grit your teeth. You owe him that money and that beer, maybe if you sweeten the deal he’ll back off.

How fucking tedious, you always forget how tedious it is to be a mercenary. It’s always so much better when you can just threaten and pay people for information, why does everyone have to make it so fucking tedious?

“Do you know Jamaica Plains?” You finally say, Daisy takes a second, contemplating. “We won’t go near Ram unless you tell us you’ve at least _heard_ of it.”

“I know of it. Get Ram to focus his efforts someplace else and I’ll tell you everything I know.”

“Deal. Do you have two Gwennet Stouts?”

“Little early to be drinking isn’t it?”

“It’s for your job. Ram likes them.”

You give over the extortionate 12 caps and leave Goodneighbour to go to the Mass Fusion building yet _again._ You had hoped that you could ignore the promise you made to Ram, he’s not the smartest, he probably would’ve forgotten his debt if you kept away for a month or two, but now you’ve actually gotta pay it.

For fucks sake.

“How do you plan on going about this?” Veronica asks as the gate shuts behind them and they start the trek toward Ram.

“I thought you would be arguing with me on this shit.”

“He’s your _friend._ ”

Is she pissed that you know him?

For fucks sake.

“We travelled together for a bit a few years back, we’re hardly friends.” You scoff, he’s a glorified drifter, who managed to get a few people to listen to him and join his stupid gang. “I give him the shit I owe him for the information I got to save your ass, then ask him to keep away from Goodneighbour. Depending on how many of his little friends are around, we either threaten him, or do ask him again, _nicely._ ”

“Okay, sounds good.”

“I expected you to fight me.”

“I don’t know jack shit about Ram, I would just threaten him, or pay him or something. Your plan will save us time, caps and ammunition.” She points out, head tilting as she speaks. You hadn’t noticed that properly yet, she moves her head as she lays our sentences, tilting side to side, nodding and bobbing.

Just an observation.

You get to the building quicker than anticipated, you clearly both know the area like the back of your hand. Apart from a moment where you argue about which street to go down, it’s done in relative silence, both of you listening out for whatever could try to kill you next.

“Don’t they have a machine gun here?” Veronica asks, both of you leaning against a half collapsed building so one of Ram’s lot doesn’t shoot you on sight.

“I got it the other day, they can’t tell their heads from their asses they’re so fucking stupid.”

“Who’s there?” A familiar voice shouts out when you kick a can to get their attention.

“I owe you a beer don’t I?”

“Chandler! What a surprise!” He shouts and you come out from the alcove, Veronica trailing behind you, her knuckles almost white against her rifle. “Oh you found her.” He says, leering slightly at Veronica as you make your way to the camp. “Pay up.”

You give him one of the beers.

“The caps?”

“Let’s talk about that someplace private.”

“Don’t you got ‘em?”

“Oh I got them, and more, but I got something to talk to you about.”

“Scared to say it in front of everyone?” He teases, voice lilting in that way that always made you want to punch him. But you can’t because, if you somehow make it out alive, Daisy won’t tell you shit, then you’ll have to follow the vague bullshit that Magnolia had on her and end up fumbling around until you finally find Jamaica Plains, by that point Flemming will have left office and you’ll need a hip replacement or something.

“Fine. Stay away from Goodneighbour.”

“Or what?”

“This isn’t an ultimatum. I’m just asking.” You hand over the second beer and produce the pile of caps you owe him.

“You think an extra beer is gonna keep we away from there? It’s a prime mugging area.”

“I’ll fix your machine gun.”

“We’ve got it.”

“What? Johnny’s gonna fix it?”

“Yeah.” Ram puff up him chest, so dumb, so loyal.

“Johnny who’s off his ass on Jet and is currently staring directly at the sun?”

“He’ll get around to it eventually.”

“And until then? I can see you’ve taken half the people off the Eastern blockade and stuck them where the machine gun is, but the Mutants are getting brave out East and the ghouls have been worse than ever since more peoples are heading to Diamond City, always chasing after whose closest.” You step toward him, his chest retracts to his normal place. It’s a lie, the Mutants are actually heading North and the ghouls are attacking folks along the Freedom Trail, they don’t care about this, about Ram’s little operation, but is gets him suitably stressed. You can see him weighing it over in his mind. “C’mon, I’ve got a spare pair of hands that I know haven’t touched any Chems in the last month, if ever, I’ll get it done in two hours.”

“Fine, but you’re on thin ice Chandler.”

“I am with everyone Rambo, just let us work in peace, then we’ll be off.”

He grunts and heads inside, his little groupies following him as he goes.

“That was, easier than I thought it would be.”

“He’s easy to convince. He’s got everyone around here scared of him, but that’s just because he’ll shoot on sight. Actually talk to him and you’ll notice he has more bullets than brain cells.”

“So do you know how to fix a machine gun?”

“Yeah. You know anything about it?”

“Not a thing, but I do have very steady hands.”

So she can’t pick locks, or know anything about fixing shit, you think. Taking note of the things she can do, of what she can’t do.

The machine gun’s stand is completely intact, thank God, but there are some big problems with the casing and internal workings. You really did a number on it the other day, why didn’t she threaten Daisy more?

Oh yeah, she’s the only one in Goodneighbour who everyone actually likes.

You roll up your sleeves and get too work.

\--

Veronica’s hands were useful, very useful.

You glance at them until you’re back in the safety of Goodneighbour, long and steady and strong.

They held still and calm while you worked away, holding what you needed.

Maybe you fixated on her hand because she didn’t say anything when you were in the camp. You feel like you should ask her if she’s okay, but she doesn’t stop soldiering on until you get back to Daisy.

“All done.” You say when you get to Daisy’s stall.

“I’m sure everyone here will appreciate it. That town you’re looking for is in between University Point and West Roxbury. If I were you I’d stay clear of both, especially West Roxbury, you’re stuck in between Minutemen-“ Veronica swears under her breath, you put a pin in that for later, “- and Mutants, not to mention the Gunners HQ just down the road.”

“So where would it be closest too in the Boston Area?”

“The school, or maybe some of those factories, but they’re all dead end.”

“Thanks Daisy.”

You step away from her shop and get the map up on your Pip-boy, the whole South area is empty of places that you know, the closest is the School. You could get there easily by nightfall, as long as nothing bad happens and your leg doesn’t act up.

“We could go by the School.” You point to the tiny icon on the screen, you know the route there and back like you know when it’s going to rain. Veronica shakes her head.

“That areas packed with Mutants.”

“I know it well though.”

“What about all that empty space? Go by the relay then head South.”

“Then we’re flying blind.”

“I know some people at the salvage just, if we run into any trouble we can run back there.”

You know she’s right, the area by the factories in like a death trap, even with all the secret paths through it that you know.

It doesn’t mean that you’re not pissed about it thought.

“You’re right.” You admit, grumbling as you say it, turning your Pip-boy off.

“Wait, say that again.” She tries to joke but you shut it down.

“You heard me. Let’s go.”

You start walking before you can reply, but she catches up with you quickly.

She doesn’t speak much as the city starts to fade out, rubble and broken buildings become barely stable trees and cracked road under their feet. You feel your body loosen as you get further away from the city, you see Veronica’s posture do the same. She pushes her railway rifle to her back with her sniper and lets her hands be free. It’s a mistake in your head but it’s her mistake to make.

“So where’d you get that?” She says when you can see the entire sky, instead of a subsection because of what little buildings there are left.

“Get what?”

“Your Pip-boy.”

Something in you stills, you’ve never told anybody where you’re from. You just say you’re protective of Vault dwellers, that you have a good relationship with Vault 81, no one knows that you’re from one. It’s for the best, you’d be completely ostracised instead of vaguely ignored or, how did Flemming put it? ‘Tolerate’ you.

“Doesn’t matter.”

She doesn’t say anything for a moment, and you worry that you’ve given it away.

“Okay.” She simply says and that’s that. “How’d you get the Homeplate?”

“Why do you care about this shit? We’re never going to interact after this.”

“I don’t know, thought it could be interesting.”

“I’m not some lab experiment, or whatever it is you and Martha make in the Mega Surgery.”

That makes her honest to God laugh, it’s short and it goes as quickly as it comes, but it makes her laugh nonetheless.

“No, you’re much harder to decipher.”

You don’t dignify that with a response, and carry on walking. Veronica starts humming something, it’s easy to ignore at first, you can focus on making sure no one ambushes you. But then she starts whistling, her head bobbing and she looks at you with a smug expression on her face, the one that looks a little too attractive and you break.

“Fine, I helped Flemming with some shit. That’s how I got the Homeplate, now will you stop that.”

“Thanks.”

She looks entirely too smug for the next few minutes.

It’s annoying.

“Can you stop that?”

You walk under one of the highways that are almost disintegrating, you’d been taught about them in the Vault too, they were meant to be able to withstand nuclear war. And they did, they just couldn’t survive humanity after it, you guess.

“Stop what?”

“Your face.”

“My face doing what?”

“You know what.”

“This is my normal face.”

“No it isn’t-“

“Hey you two!” A voice calls from Veronica’s right, she grabs _your_ pistol from the back of her jeans and points it toward the voice.

It’s not a good sign, first someone shouting for your attention on a random empty road, second Veronica’s reaction. You curse yourself for being too focused on Veronica’s face and letting your guard down.

The man stills for a second before grinning, he’s missing two teeth.

“Get them!”

Two men jump out from the rocky outcrop to you left, another three come behind you. Veronica’s quick on the draw, shooting the man who first got your attention and two of the men coming behind you. You stab one of them coming for you with your bayonet and shoot the other. The last man stops coming towards you when he sees what you did to his friends.

“You part of a group?” Veronica asks.

He nods.

“If anyone comes near us again. Together or separate, you’ll regret it. Understand?”

He stays still. Veronica shoots next to his foot, he jumps.

“Understand?”

He nods.

“Beat it.” He scurries off.

“Here I thought you were above threatening.” You clean your baronet and start looking through the muggers stuff for anything interesting.

“I am in towns, settlements. Often they don’t need threatening, you can either be their friend, do something for them or pay them off. We’re almost in the middle of nowhere and, whatever group they were with, won’t have a solid place to live. They’ll keep picking on people stupid enough to walk through here unprotected, they’ll be too afraid to venture out here for a couple of days.”

“We had our guard down.” You say, pocketing some Jet and a Stimpak.

“Yeah, but we handled it well.”

“It’s your fault we had our guard down.”

“Blame is a two way street.”

This is your first proper look at mercenary Veronica Sawyer, everyone has a gun and hates Raiders in the city, everyone knows where not to go but out here? Where the cars outnumber the people half the time? It’s difficult.

You like this side of Veronica, slightly more ruthless, slightly less gooey in the middle.

You watch as she shifts back into her normal self, well normal as in annoying you by not shutting up and not staying still. You literally just got ambushed because you were talking about something innocuous, but she continues anyway. She’ll see something that’ll remind her of a mission she was on once, which’ll remind her of something _else_ and the cycle continues. Normally you’d be listening to the radio quietly while digesting the landscape around you for anything you’ve missed, instead your back in ramrod straight and you’re tuning out her chattering. To be fair to her, it is much more entertaining then listening to Travis babble on about whatever mundane happenings are going on in Diamond city.

After another mile of walking your leg starts to ache somewhat, you’re able to hide until you trip over a stone you never would have an hour ago and curse under your breath.

“That’s it.” She stops and starts walking towards an abandoned house at the side of the road. By now the sun is beating down from above, there are small beads of sweat falling down the side of her head.

“What?” You act like nothing is wrong and stand in the middle of the road.

“You’re bad at hiding when you’re in pain.” She yells over her shoulder.

“Am not.”

“Are too. You’ve done a shitty job at pretending not to be limping.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you act like a concerned Mother?” You go for insulting but your tone falls short, the pain mixed with the feeling of boiling alive in your armour leaves you petulant.

“Yes, do you know how many Chem addicts have come in need of assistance? They run their mouth with some proper shit.” She turns around, after opening the door. Well, kicking the door in and holding it open. “Come on, I won’t look at it, just sit for fifteen minutes then we can get going.”

You grumble as you follow her, not letting yourself limp in revenge but it only makes it worse, she shuts the door behind you, it closes as well as it can on busted hinges. You watch as she walks past you to lean next to a window, you see your 10mm jutting out the back of her trousers.

“Will I ever get my pistol back?” You ask, sitting down on a chair that’s probably older than both your ages combined and multiplied. Part of you is angry that you’re wasting time when you’re perfectly fine, the other part is too busy looking at her jaw as she gulps down a Nuka Cola like she hasn’t had a liquid in days. She smiles as she finishes the bottle and throws it out the window, wiping just below her bottom lip to get rid of where she spilled some.

“Whenever you need it.”

“I _want_ it.”

“Wanting and needing are two very different things, Heather.”

“It’s mine.”

“But it’s in my trousers.”

You read her expression. She’s winding you up on purpose, god does she have to be so frustrating?

She smiles as you roll your eyes, her eyes are glinting with some form of fondness that you just cannot stand.

“Here you go.” She takes in out from the back of her trousers and throws it to you. “Try not to shoot yourself in the foot.”

“Very funny.” You load it and tuck into the holster strapped across your waist. “Let’s go.”

You walk in silence for around half an hour before Veronica starts prodding again. You start to miss the city, purely because you always had to be tense and on the lookout and most importantly, you had to be _quiet._

“You got a radio on that thing?” She gestures toward your Pip-boy with the handle of her gun.

“Yes.”

“Can we listen?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“Seriously?”

“I don’t want to hear Travis’ bumbling for the next two hours, it’s almost as annoying as your whining.”

“I whine?”

“Yes, like Piper when she can’t get into the City.”

“Ouch.” She exaggerates, and you hate how the way she says it and raises her shoulders in melodrama makes your lips curl up in some semblance of a smile.

You see the relay tower you need to get to before turning South and some salvage place slightly to the West.

“What time is it?”

“4:36. Why?”

“I reckon another hour and we’ll be at the Plains. Do you feel like shooting up a town full of ghouls?”

You let out a breath. She makes a point.

You hate it when she does that.

“I know the people at the salvage, we can spend the evening and night there.”

“Isn’t that a waste of time? We could take out half of them then come back.”

She pushes you. You stumble.

“That’s why and I’m tired. I’d rather waste time and come back alive then get half of them now and risk getting injured.”

“You don’t take risks.”

“You take too many.”

“How do you get anything down with how much time you waste?”

“How are you still alive when you don’t let yourself stop?”

You didn’t realise you stepping into her space, until feel her warmth. She radiates it. You also don’t realise that she’s taller than you until you notice that your head it craned up to see her and hers is slightly angled down.

“Fine.”

You can't believe you're giving in. You must be getting weak in your old age, well twenty four years used to be young before the war, now it's a privilege to end up as only kind of fucked up that she it. 

You really should be pushing for this to be over with, to get most of the work done.

But something about Veronica makes you want to stay around her for longer, you can’t quite put your finger on it.

You don’t exactly make an effort to get closer to people, but you don’t actively push them away either. You’re brusque attitude and mean remarks sends people packing after an hour or two in your company, unless your mouth is otherwise occupied, that takes more than a couple of hours.

Veronica just takes your words, sometimes fights back and gets under your skin like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“And to add, we now know the route. We can spend the morning clearing out the town, the afternoon venturing back to Diamond City.”

“I said fine, God, you don’t have to try and convince me anymore.”

Veronica’s lips move into a small smile and she starts moving toward a house on the horizon with cars piled up around it.

You sincerely hope that her friends have some form of alcohol at their house.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed this! Thank you for reading :)
> 
> Comments are banging, but please don't feel you have to leave one xx
> 
> Come join me on 'its3amandiamverytired' for all of my dumbass thoughts :)


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